The Fighter
by caitlyn1225
Summary: A different kind of dark twist on Cassie's famous series. Follow the tale of a fiery Clary with a bad temper and morbid past, running from her problems, who gets recruited into the FBI by a persistent Jace. Together, with their team, they will take down the bad guys one by one... and hopefully the root of Clary's suffering. All human. T/M.
1. Strength - Later On

**Hey everyone! I'm formally known as dancerox1997. I recently decided to change my profile name as well as update my bio... after being MIA for well over a year. Some may know me from the TID (The Infernal Devices) section of FanFiction, some may not. If not, hey, I'm Caitlyn! :)**

 **Anyway, so I wrote this about a year and a half ago but got wrapped up in finishing my TID FanFic _Better Than Thyself_ , which I finally did at 36 chapters I believe. Then I got caught up in senior year and work and college and just didn't have time. I seem to have finally caught a break though and I have a decent amount of this typed up to update pretty frequently. :)  
**

 **A little bit about the story: it's AU and all human. Kind of dark and twisted, I know, but I think a good story could come from this. Clary is still Clary (sort of) and I will try to keep the characters as OG as possible. Also, the language is somewhat explicit so I'll rate T/M just in case. No copyright or infringement intended here! All rights belong to Cassandra Clare.**

 **This chapter I decided to combine the prologue with a portion of chapter 1. My next update will be the remainder of chapter 1 and then I will continue to post as normal! :) So please, read and review! See you at the end of the chapter and I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

 **The Fighter**

 **Prologue: Strength**

June 15th, 2000

It started when I was six years old. And then I had turned seven years old when my life _truly_ went downhill.

Little did I know the side effects, the nightmares, the post-traumatic stress, the emotional and physical instability that it would all bring to me; I didn't know how such trauma could effect my life.

Little did I know that I would turn from an innocent little girl to a mature young woman in the blink of an eye.

* * *

I sat outside a hospital room, fiddling with my old beat up yellow walkman. There was a dent on the side of it and my faded signature from a Sharpie I used years ago. It was dirty, as if it could never quite be rid of dirt smudges and sticky fingerprints.

I had over-the-ear headphones on my ears, blasting the Backstreet Boys's CD, _Millenium_ , trying to ignore the name on the small black chalkboard beside the hospital door. The name, I knew, was a permanent fixture. In bold, white letters, as if taunting me, I read: JOCELYN FAIRCHILD.

"Show Me the Meaning of Being Lonely" came on, and I had to tear my gaze from the name. The pain was unbearable. I stared down at my hands, bruised and bloodied from pounding relentlessly on neighbor's doors. My knees were scraped from falling, and my plain, navy skirt, knee-high socks, and white shirt were smeared with mud and blood. I had long since removed my Mary Jane-style black shoes, which were under the chair I occupied. My school uniform was uncomfortable after wearing it all day, making me fidget, and I was more than thankful that today was the last day of the school year.

Suddenly the door opened, but I didn't glance up. I didn't want to know what was happening inside. My aunt kneeled in front of me, gazing up into my green eyes. I tried to avert my gaze, but she reached out and grasped my chin with one hand. Her other hand pushed the headphones off my ears.

"Clary, your mother wants to see you," she whispered, searching my face with her big blue eyes for… something.

I tore my chin from her hold, looking anywhere but at her. "I don't want to, Aunt Amatis. I'm scared." She wasn't my real aunt. She and my Uncle Luke, her brother, were my mother's best friends.

She sighed. "I know, sweetheart. But she asked to see you. She's awake right now, for the first time in days."

My lip trembled, but I held my tears back and bit my lip. Nodding, I turned off my walkman and shoved it into my dirty backpack. Then, I leaned down and pulled my shoes on, one by one. Taking Aunt Amatis's arm for support, I let her lead me into my mother's hospital room.

I sucked in a deep breath and broke away from my aunt. The small crowd of family and friends, and I mean very small since my mother didn't associate with many people and didn't have much family, dispersed at my arrival. I finally got a clear view of my mother. I nearly cried out in surprise; my hand flew to cover my mouth, my eyes growing wide and frightened.

My mother's long red hair was gone. She was completely bald. Her skin was paler than usual, nearly transparent, and her green eyes were sunken in her skull. She had an oxygen tube stuck into her nose, and she was staring straight at me.

"Clar, it's me," she murmured.

I burst into tears then, rounding the bed to be by her. I threw my arms around her as sobs wracked my body. She held me, though she was thin and felt fragile beneath me. I briefly remembered, when she first started the chemotherapy, how sick she got. She couldn't hold any food down.

I swallowed and pulled away from her. Her eyes were shining with tears. I frowned, noticing the constant, rhythmic beeping from the machine next to her. I gaped at it, then realized that the beeping was her pulse.

"Clar, what happened to you?" she asked.

Broken from my reverie, I glanced down at myself. I was a mess. The reasoning behind it made me flinch, and I avoided her eyes. "Nothing, I—I just felt down," I lied.

Feebly, she retrieved a small pink glossy gift bag from the other side of the bed. "I wanted to give this to you. Happy birthday, baby," she rasped.

My eyes filled to the brim with tears again. "Mommy, you didn't have to get me a gift." Tears streamed steadily down my face.

Her eyes widened and she let out a cough. "Please take it, Clar. It's your seventh birthday today."

Reluctantly, I took the bag from her. "Thank you," I whispered.

"Don't open it until after," she said.

My head snapped up to glower at her. "What do you mean, 'after'?" I demanded,

She didn't answer my question. "I love you, Clarissa. Don't you ever forget it, okay? I love you with all my heart. You are my bright and shining star. You are fierce and beautiful and a warrior. You're my fighter."

I swallowed. "Momma, why are you saying all of this?" More silence from her. I looked around at everyone in the room frantically, but they all turned their heads to avoid my eyes. "Momma, what's going on?"

"Nothing, baby. It's all very overwhelming, sweetheart. I love you," she said again.

On the verge of another breakdown, I fixed my gaze on hers. "I love you, too, Momma."

She took hold of my hand. "I'm always with you. Promise to keep fighting the battle I couldn't."

I searched her eyes, looking for answers and solace, but only found remorse and a deep-seated pain. But I couldn't respond. I was scared it would be indefinite.

"Promise me!" she weakly cried, squeezing my hand.

I jumped, scared at her reaction to my silence. "I promise," I whispered.

She squeezed my hand again. "Good girl."

I smiled, then leaned down and kissed her briefly on the cheek. "Get better soon, Momma." She gave me one last quick squeeze on my hand for reassurance and a fleeting smile. Hope blossomed in my chest as I gave her one last hug and kiss, then turned and pushed through the small crowd to get out of the stifling room. I had to get out of there before I legitimately broke down.

As I reached the door, the beeping stopped its constant beat and lapsed into an adamant blare. I gasped when everyone sucked in a breath. I whirled, staring at the machine in wide-mouthed horror.

I was young, yes, but I knew what it meant.

It meant my mother was gone, torn from me by the cruel fate of cervical cancer.

My uncles cursed, rushing to me and lifting me by my arms. I thrashed, screaming at him to let me go. The room was in chaos; everyone was milling about, crying, collapsing into each other.

"No! _Put me down_! Let me see my _mommy_!" I wailed.

It all happened so fast, and next thing I knew, my uncle set me down in the hallway outside. His blue eyes blinked at me. His mouth moved; he was saying _something_ , but I couldn't hear him. I just stared at him.

Finally, I heard him, but it was as if he spoke to me underwater. "Stay here, Clar. Don't leave, okay? Stay here," he was saying. He stood and strolled back into the room, shutting the door behind him.

I stood there, a lone child left in the hallway, covered in mud and blood and bruises, tangled red curls, and a puffy face from crying.

Without any warning, I shoved my mother's gift into my backpack, then took off running. I ran through the corridors of the hospital, outside into the hot, dry heat, and down the street. I raced toward home, my backpack slapping my back annoyingly.

We lived out in the country, in a small, dilapidated, dated home. It took me just over an hour to get home, and I desperately hoped that _he_ wasn't there. But the house was empty and dark when I arrived, flushed and panting from such a long run. I felt more comfortable being in my house, with the stained tan carpet, old TV, and ripped upholstery on the couches. As I passed it, I noticed the kitchen was filthy; dishes were strewn everywhere and there was food left out. I shuddered. What had _he_ done to this place?

I carefully treaded toward my room and slowly opened the door.

"There you are," his voice said from somewhere in my bedroom.

I froze. _Oh no. I guess I wasn't alone after all…_

I spun on my heel and raced back toward the front door, but he caught up to me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling my back against his chest. I could feel his breath on my ear. He reeked of stale cigarettes and alcohol. I fought the urge to gag and struggled against him.

"Oh, Clarissa, I thought I taught you better than to fight me?" he said, and I could _sense_ his malicious smile distorting his lips.

I stopped struggling. "She's gone," I mumbled, suddenly feeling empty and devoid of emotion. "She's dead."

"All the better for you and me," he muttered. "Come, Clarissa." He picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. I screeched and punched his back as hard as I could, but my flesh was still bruised and tender. I did it anyway, ignoring the pain. He carried me back to my bedroom and dropped me on my bed. He stared at me through the darkness of my room, his dark eyes glistening with desire.

I whimpered as he approached me. There was nothing I could do to stop it now.

* * *

I lay naked, vulnerable, exposed, violated, in a ball on my bed, stifling my sobs in my pillow. My hair was tangled around me, snot and tears mingled on my oversensitive skin.

 _Jeez. Some seventh birthday._

My body hurt. I could not be more thankful that he had chosen to let me sleep alone tonight.

As the thought crossed my mind, I sat up in my bed, my yellow covers, now dirty from the dirt I treaded in from outside, pooled around my waist.

 _He's not in here. I can leave._

I scrambled out of bed, quietly opening my closet door and pulling out some clothes. I yanked them over my body, and shoved some into my backpack, along with an extra pair of shoes, socks, and underwear. I glanced nervously around my room, wondering if I needed anything else. I spotted my stuffed kitten resting on my bed, and I snatched it up, putting it in with my clothes. It was a gift from my mother when I was born.

 _My mother._

Her ghostly presence haunted me; I fought the urge to cry and removed any other sentimental items from my room, like pictures of her and I and jewelry she had left in my room.

Then I crawled across my bed and pushed on the window with all my remaining strength. It didn't give way easily, but when it did, it screeched. I froze, listening intently for any noise that I had woken _him_ up. After a few moments of silence, I resumed my careful pushing until I could fit through it. I tossed my backpack out the window. I pulled myself up and over the sill, then swung down, landing heavily on my feet. Pain lanced through my ankles, but I ignored it and turned back to close the window, only to find I was too short to reach it.

 _Oh no._

But I didn't stay to find out what would happen when _he_ found out I left.

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Later On**

May 18th, 2014

I walked out of yet another interview, feeling utterly defeated. It seemed all hope was lost with this interview; I was under qualified by a _long_ shot. I stumbled out of the building, frustrated by how cramped my feet felt in my black pumps and the restriction my charcoal pencil skirt caused.

Sighing, I paused under the awning, leaning against the building for support as I clumsily yanked the shoes off my feet. With heels in hand, I strolled to my car, parked by the curb, got in, then glanced longingly at the tall building before me.

It was huge and immaculate; all steel and glass on the exterior. On the inside, all the floors were tan granite, the desks a deep mahogany, and the walls a warm beige. It was manly and cozy, and the place I _most_ wanted to work.

Needing to let off steam, I reached into my backseat and retrieved my yellow gym bag, placing it in my passenger seat. I started my car and headed toward the gym.

When I got there, I was given several respectable nods from members of the gym. Normally I didn't acknowledge many other people than my trainers and the few friends I had, but today was an exception from the shitty interview. I gave small smiles toward everyone I saw, causing people to stare.I wasn't a friendly person. Ever. I kept to myself and talked only when I needed to.

I headed straight to the locker room, agitated that I was still dressed in my charcoal suit. I changed quickly, into one of my usual work-out outfits: a pair of black spandex shorts, a black sports bra, and a black tank top, all made of Under Armour. I quickly and efficiently tied my sleek black tennis shoes. They weren't bulky; they were lightweight and slim, perfect for what I had in mind today.

I exited the locker room, heading straight toward the punching bags. I wrapped white tape around my knuckles, flexing my hands before I did a few warmup strikes against the tough material. Oh man, it felt good. The stress was already starting to leave my body. I rolled my shoulders back and bent my neck back and forth, trying to loosen my muscles.

All hell broke loose then, my anger bubbling to the surface before I could contain it. I lashed out with my fists, punching and swinging, then bringing my foot up and kicking. My body moved easily and fluently; years of training emblazoned in my mind and muscles. I felt every muscle in my body contract as I hit the punching bag relentlessly, over and over, my breathing accelerating, my body temperature rising.

I imagined _his_ face on the punching bag. He was the punching bag. He was the reason I turned out the way I did. It was _his_ fault that I had so much anger built up inside of me; the reason I didn't trust anyone, never let anyone in.

Memories floated in my head, brought unbidden by my anger.

 _The night before I was allowed to go see my mother, he had me cornered. It wasn't his first time taking advantage of me, but that didn't mean I didn't dread it. I remembered someone telling me, should I ever be placed in an uncomfortable situation with a man, to aim straight for the groin._

 _I thought that now as he closed in on me, dark, almost black eyes gleaming in the moonlight streaming through the window, and when he was close enough to twirl my hair around his fingers, I brought my knee up as hard as I could into his groin. He groaned and doubled over, his white-blonde hair tickling my face as he did so. I took the opportunity to take off and headed to my nearest neighbors. I stumbled a few times, scraping my hands and knees. My mother would be furious with me if she saw how dirty I was, but I wasn't thinking of her._

 _No. All I could think of was that I had to get away. I ran and ran, as fast and far as my little legs could take me. When I reached my neighbors' home, I pounded on their door, never ceasing my knocking. I cried and screamed for help._

 _But no one came._

 _So I ran again._

 _And repeated the process._

I grunted and gritted my teeth together.

 _No. This happened fourteen years ago._

I pictured my mother's face, the way she was the last time before she died, and suddenly I stopped fighting the punching bag. I froze, catching a glimpse of something, someone in the mirror I was facing. I whirled because I could swear it was my mother. When no one was standing behind me, I shook my head, blinking furiously.

 _I'm obviously imagining it because I just thought of her, duh_ , I told myself.

I resumed my work-out, but it was halfheartedly after what I'd seen. Eventually, I paused for a water break. I sat on one of the benches near the punching bags, wiping the back of my hand across my forehead. It came away wet with sweat.

 _Excellent. The more I sweat, the better._

"Lot of anger pent up?" A male voice asked from the left of where I sat.

I clenched my jaw. I wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone. But then again, when was I _ever_ in the mood to talk to _anyone_? Besides, _everyone_ knew I didn't socialize. So either I smiled at this person when I walked in, and he took it the wrong way, or he was new here.

I raised my head and pinned him with a glare. He stood, leaning against the wall a few feet from me. He wore black gym shorts and a grey muscle shirt, stuck to his chest from a patch of sweat, a white towel hanging around his neck. He had golden blonde hair, not long, but not exactly short either. A few waves tumbled over his forehead, damp with sweat. He raised his eyebrows expectantly at me, and I had the sudden urge to beat the shit out of him. Who was this man, and why the hell was he talking to me?

"Do I know you?" I snapped, then tipped my water bottle back and took a long sip from it.

"I'll take that as a yes. But no, we don't know each other," he replied calmly, smirking, dimples appearing adorable, as much as I hated to admit it.

I frowned. "Why, exactly, are you talking to me?"

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Why not?"

I sighed, pushing myself up from the bench. I faced him. "Are you new to this gym?"

He nodded, amusement flickering in his golden-brown eyes. "Yeah, I just started coming here with my brother."

"Okay, well then there's one thing you need to remember: I don't talk to anyone here but my trainers and the few people I acquaint myself with," I told him.

He chuckled. "And how do you suppose you made those friends? I'm guessing it stemmed from… wow, get this, _talking_. Why not talk to me?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. He raised his hands in a defensive gesture. "I've made few exceptions. I'm not interested in making any more." With that, I turned and began striding purposefully toward the locker room, for once no longer in the mood to be there.

I almost stopped to give him an earful, but changed my mind. Instead, I kept walking, flipping him the bird without giving him so much as a second chance.

* * *

 **Hey everyone! So... what did you think? Let me know in a review! Like it? Follow/fave for more and I'll do my best to update frequently! Got suggestions? Review! Any thoughts at all, please review!**

 **Anyway, I think that's about all for now. I have the other half of chapter 1 already done and chapter 2 done as well, so I'll update soon, if I hear that some readers want more! :)**

 **Au revoir,**

 **-Caitlyn**


	2. Later On Part 2

**Hey everyone! I like to respond to my reviews, so I'll go ahead and do that now.**

 **Issi Herondale: Hey girl heyyyy. You inspired me to get back into writing by you constantly talking about it, and for that I thank you :) prepare yourself. Thanks for your support X :)**

 **Islandgirl4evR: I remember you from BTT! Thanks for coming back for more! :)**

 **Bubbles 3 (Guest): I sometimes get notifications of reviews for BTT and I'm surprised by it because I finished it so long ago! But no, I recently turned 18, and I haven't outgrown it at all! I've just been so busy, so thank you for being so patient! :) Yes, she does some great reviews, but every review is greatly appreciated and they certainly make me extremely happy. :)**

 **Anyway! I hope you enjoy the second part of chapter 1. I do have chapter 2 written and part of chapter 3, so I will hopefully update again this weekend if I get enough reviews! See you at the end of the** **chapter!**

* * *

I stood in the locker room, having not changed back into my suit, but rather folded it neatly and put it on the top of my bag. I had rinsed the sweat off me, and my makeup clung to my face rather thickly. I itched to wipe it off, but I would have to wait until I got home to do that.

"That guy who was talking to you was cute," my friend, Tessa, said. She was standing beside me, and I met her grey eyes in the mirror we stood in front of.

I could sense my gaze darkening. "I don't wish to associate with him."

She frowned. "Why not?" she wondered.

I swallowed. It was so unlike her to question me; she knew how I felt about it. "I don't know. I just don't like new people in my life."

She raised her eyebrows as she rubbed a towel through her thick brown hair. "You let me in your life when you were just seventeen. What about the others? You let them all into your life. What is one guy going to do about it?"

I rolled my eyes. "Tessa, please—you know how I feel about letting people in. I just don't like it."

She exhaled loudly. "I know. I just wish you would tell me why. I wish I understood you better. I've been your best friend for nearly four years, and I still don't know all I'd like to about you."

I turned my face from her instinctively, probably to hide my shame, terror, and humiliation. "one day," I whispered. I rifled through my bag to distract myself, then swiped my underarms with deodorant.

"Yet another thing you've said for the past four years. You'd think you'd have gotten better about it now. I mean, you let me in four years ago. You'd think you'd be more open to people now. It's almost like you've gone backwards and shut people out more."

I gnashed my teeth together. I must not snap at her. She is only trying to help. I must not snap at her. She is just talking to me. I must not snap at her. She is worried for me. I must not snap at her, I reasoned with myself.

"You can't even begin to understand, Tessa. My early childhood is fucked up and depressing, and not something I wish to relive any time soon."

"All I know about your history is that you ran away on your seventh birthday and you were taken in by foster parents. You were adopted, finished school at the top of your class, and now you're a fresh graduate out of college and trying to get a job," she told me.

I groaned, my temper flaring. "Tessa, let it go. I'll tell you eventually. You have no idea what your friendship means to me. But I vowed myself when I was seven years old that I would never let anyone take advantage of me. That includes any boy, no matter how cute they are," I snapped.

Tessa was a smart young woman, so her eyes widening in surprise told me she had an idea of what I meant. The towel she was holding in her hands fell to the floor. "Clary—,"

I shook my head. "No, stop. I don't want to hear it. Look, we'll talk later, okay?" I zipped up my bag and slung it over my shoulder, preparing to turn and leave.

"Clary, I met you right after I started coming to work out here. It was right after my eighteenth birthday, and my birthday present to myself to be able to do something for myself. I was celebrating the arrest of my crack-addict parents," she admitted quietly, her voice barely audible.

I gaped at her, trying to absorb what she just said. I was thankful no one else was in the locker room at that moment. "What? You can't be serious."

Tessa nodded. "I am."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I demanded, my bag dropping to the floor with a loud thud.

She shrugged nonchalantly. "The same reason you won't tell me about your past."

My jaw dropped. "Tessa—,"

She shoved all her stuff into her bag and picked it up. "You're not the only one with a fucked up and depressing past. Call me when you're ready to talk," she hissed, then left.

I cringed. Is that what I sounded like?

I blew all the air out of my lungs, my cheeks puffing. Barely reigning in my emotions, I stormed out of the locker room. Red colored my vision. Was she giving me an ultimatum? Why the hell would she do that?

As I strutted through the gym, not watching where I was going, my forehead came in contact with a large metal bar from one of the workout apparatuses. The force from the speed I was walking knocked me flat on my ass—my back, actually—where all the air was forced from my body. My bag fell loudly beside me.

"What the fu—," I started, struggling to a sitting position on my elbows as I tried to suck air back into my lungs, but stopped when I saw who was working the machine.

"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered, rubbing my now-tender forehead.

Mr. Smart-Ass-Who-Doesn't-Know-Boundaries leaned over the metal bar, grinning down at me, dimples flashing. "Karma's a bitch, isn't she?"

Finally breathing correctly, I leapt gracefully to my feet. "Watch what the fuck you're doing," I barked.

He tilted his head to one side, smirking. "Maybe you should watch where you're going. You were walking like a woman with a mission, and I certainly wasn't expecting you to interrupt my workout just to talk to me. What were you expecting? Me to help you up? An apology and a kiss for you to be on your merry little way? The instant chemistry? Oh no, Princess, not after the way you treated me," he said, all smugness and satisfaction.

I opened my mouth the respond, but nothing came. I snapped it closed, then opened it again. What the hell was going on with people today? Who the hell did this guy think he was?

I was close enough to him that I swung my arm up, hoping to get a good smack across the face. His reflexes were faster, and he caught my wrist before my palm came in contact with his cheek. I raised my other hand, but he caught that one too. My blood was boiling in anger at this point.

"Let… me… go," I seethed, twisting my wrists in his grip, but his iron hold on me never loosened.

"Not so fast, Princess. I think you should apologize for the way you acted toward me first," he replied.

My jaw locked. "Never," I grunted. Even begin as in shape as I was, without a trace of fat on my body, I was panting from the exertion of fighting against this man.

He shrugged. This didn't phase him at all. He just stood there, arms flexed. "Your choice, Princess. We can stand here all day, if that's what you want."

"Stop calling me that," I said.

A mischievous grin spread across his face. "Why?" he wondered innocently. Quickly, even more so than what I could comprehend, he forced my hands to my sides.

"Because I'm the furthest thing from that," I snapped. I tried to move my arms, but he had them firmly pinned to my sides. "Just fucking let me go already, would you?"

He shook his head, clearly amused. "I want an apology first."

I narrowed my eyes at him and stilled. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"I'd enjoy it more if you just apologized. What's your issue, Princess? Got too much pride to do so?"

That's it.

I snapped, like a hinge on a door, unleashing everything behind it. I swung one of my legs around his knees. Caught off guard, he buckled to the ground, his grip slipping. He recovered quickly as I tried to make a run for it. He wrapped his arms around my calves, tripping me. I barely had time to catch myself on my forearms before he was dragging me backward. I tried to grasp at the workout machines by me, but I couldn't get a solid grip.

Suddenly, he flipped me onto my back. I lay dazed, staring up at the track lighting above me, but then his face appeared and he pinned my hands over my head. In fact, my whole body was trapped beneath his. I squirmed, trying to wriggle my way out, but there was no chance for me. He was all solid, heavy muscle, all of which knew just where to lock me down.

Damn.

I was a hell of a good fighter—lithe, petite, and agile—but nothing compared to this. This man gave me a run for my money. I wasn't one to swallow my pride. Ever. But I caved now. I was exhausted and frustrated.

"Fine!" I cried. "I apologize for not watching where I was going," I managed through clenched teeth.

He raised his eyebrows, waves tumbling down from the angle his head was hanging. "And?"

I rolled my eyes. His gaze darkened. I noticed silver and dark grey flecks in his otherwise golden eyes. They were beautiful. "And for being such a bitch earlier."

He grinned, the dimples returning, and sat up carefully, releasing me. "That's better. That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

I glowered at him, half-expecting him to wither from it. He doesn't. Unfortunately. "It's not funny." I suddenly felt manhandled and weak. I turned my head away, sitting up to rest on my knees, trying to avoid his gaze.

"I never laughed. I didn't even say it was funny," he murmured.

I scowled at him, unable to resist looking at him. "Your smile implies otherwise. It makes me want to smack you."

This time he did chuckle. "And look how well that turned out the last time you tried." Then his eyes darkened and settled on mine.

I flushed under his gaze. "I won't be trying it again any time soon. I don't like being maltreated in my own territory." I clambered to my feet, and he followed.

"This is your territory?" He sounded amused.

"Yes and no. I've been coming here since I was seventeen."

He turned toward me, looking me up and down. "And how old are you now?"

I shrugged, folding my arms across my chest. "I'll be twenty-one in a couple weeks."

"Hmm…the legal drinking age. That's a big deal," he noted.

I rolled my eyes again, once again noticing some darker emotion swimming in his deep grey eyes. "I don't drink."

"That would be because you're underage," he said.

"That's not why," I snapped. "I could easily get ahold of it. I just don't like to be put in the situation where I'm not the one in control."

 _Why am I telling him this?_

"Oh, really?" he wondered, his lips quirking up in the corners. "Is that why you didn't like being mauled in the middle of the gym while everyone blatantly stared?"

My face warmed. "Yes. And let's just say that I've had some…incidents, if you will, in the past," I admitted, surprised by the fact that I had confessed to that. Who had I shared that information with?

 _No one._

As if sensing we were headed into a dangerous zone of topics, he extended his hand. "The name is Jace, by the way. I don't think we were properly introduced." I glared at his hand, then bent and retrieved my bag and turned, leaving his hand hanging there.

"You know, you could be decent without me having to kick your ass to get it out of you," he called after me.

I smirked at him over my shoulder, my mood considerably lifted after a little challenge. "I'll see you around, Jace.

* * *

 **Hey everyone! Hope you enjoyed the rest of chapter 1! Definitely let me know what your thoughts are in a review! Thanks for everyone who has read it and the few who reviewed last chapter!**

 **If you have any suggestions or thoughts, please, let me know in a review!**

 **Until next time,**

 **-Caitlyn**


	3. Recruited

**Hey everyone! I'm back! I (surprisingly) had time this week, given I had midterms. But I will always do my best to make time for FF! Shout outs to everyone who reviewed! It means a lot because it motivated me to keep posting this! So now I will respond to my reviews. :)**

 **Shauna Kullden: My summary isn't that great, so I get it. If you have any suggestions on how to make it more appealing, please feel free to let me know! :) Also, yes I should've remembered that. Thank you for the correction and I'm glad you like it! :)**

 **Guest: Thank you! I was kind of going for that. In most stories I read relationships kind of start like that and I wanted this one to be really different, so thank you for noticing!**

 **Caitlin smith: That is my intention! Keep reviewing and I'll be more motivated to. :)**

 **Islandgirl4evR: I needed someone to relate to Clary a little bit, and who better than Tessa?! Also, yes that was the first sign of her letting her guard down... Just wait;)**

 **Guest: No, school is not involved here. There are some lessons thrown in (probably next chapter) but not school. So far it's in the summer! The other characters come in... some gradually, some at once. Don't worry, Simon will be making his appearance next chapter! :)**

 **Guest: I'm flattered:) Thank you so much! Hopefully the wait wasn't too long! Enjoy!**

 **Issi Herondale: You've read a little bit after chapter 1. Definitely all of this chapter but not all of chapter 3, so I can still surprise you a little! *insert devil face* Thanks, girly.**

 **O-kay! So now that that's done. On with the story, and see you at the end! :) Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Recruited**

Three days later, I was headed home after a late night at the gym. I had, thankfully, not run into neither Tessa nor Jace, and no one approached me. It had been a relatively peaceful and eventless day.

I had just parked my car and was walking to my apartment when someone jumped me from behind. I yelped, but the person slapped a hand over my mouth, the other arm curling around my midsection, keeping me partially immobilized. I attempted to kick out with my legs, but I didn't come in contact with anything. I opened my eyes wider, trying to get a glimpse of anything that could help me identify the person, but I came up with nothing.

And then there were other figures surrounding me; their bodies were silhouettes against the dark backdrop of my neighborhood. I slowly stilled, squinting my eyes to see if any of them looked familiar, but it was too dark to tell. I could tell, though, that there were four other people—men, by the looks of it—surrounding me.

"You can let her go now, Alec. If she agrees to not run or fight us," one of the men in the middle said. The voice was vaguely familiar. I tried to place it, but my mind was drawing a blank. I was more focused on routing my escape plan.

"What do you say, Miss Fairchild? Do you agree?" he said, almost in a mocking tone.

Trying to meet the man's gaze in the dark, I nodded. My chest was tightening from feeling so hopeless, so held down, so caught off guard… it reminded me of how _he_ used to handle me. I fought the panic the memory brought.

"Let her go, Alec."

The man holding me, Alec, cautiously removed his hand and his hold on me, backing away. I shivered in the sudden cold when the warmth of him dissipated. I stood still for a moment, watching each of the men carefully.

"Who are you? And what do you want from me?" I demanded.

The one who spoke before raised his hands defensively. The gesture rang a distant bell. "We don't want to hurt you, Miss Fairchild, but we will if you don't wish to cooperate."

I narrowed my eyes, considering my options. All these men were taller, bulkier than I was, meaning that chances were I could outrun them. I was in fantastic shape, and with a head start, I could throw them off…

I huffed, then turned and darted to my right, slinging my purse over my shoulder and taking off like my life depended on it. I heard some groans of frustration behind me, and then light footsteps. But only one set of footsteps, quickly gaining on me.

Before I had time to react, a pair of strong hands caught hold of one of my wrists, brining me to an ungraceful halt. As I was about to turn and face him, he grabbed my other hand, twisting both my arms behind my back painfully. I tossed my head back and yelled out.

"I gave you a change, Miss Fairchild. You're very stubborn," he whispered in my arm before bringing something hard and heavy down on my temple. My world was black in a heartbeat.

* * *

I awoke with a throbbing in my head. Painful, distracting.

I was sitting in a chair, a single lightbulb above creating a dim circle of light around me. I tried to get up before realizing I was restrained to the chair and that the chair was nailed to the floor. I grunted in frustration, and the exertion pulsed in my head.

"Struggling is pointless, Miss Fairchild," a man said; the same man from earlier.

I hung my head, closing my eyes to block out the light. "What do you want from me?" I mumbled.

"You mean you don't recognize me?" the voice asked, amused.

Slowly, I raised my head—and jolted back at who stood at the edge of the circle.

"Jace!" I cried, confused and horrified.

He grinned, those damn dimples shadowing under the dim light. "Ah. I see you've finally figured it out."

I scrutinized him, and then winced in pain. This did not go unnoticed by him. His eyes flickered in concern. He stepped toward me.

"Are you alright?" he wondered, reaching his fingers out to brush my temple.

I jerked away from him; his gentle touch both disturbing me and causing more pain. "No, it hurts. Was that you who hit me?"

Jace nodded. "You weren't cooperating. I was told to."

I rolled my eyes. "Are you crazy? You could've killed me!"

He shook his head, waves bouncing slightly. "I'm fully trained. I know what I'm doing."

I snorted. "You made it sound like you're a dog."

Jace grinned. "I take it you're not mad at me?"

I turned my head away. "Of course I'm mad at you."

He sighed. "I hit you with my phone. It was in my hand, and I took advantage of the opportunity to use it."

"How do you know my name? I don't recall tell you," I snapped, ignoring his explanation.

"That's because you didn't tell me."

I glanced up at him through my eyelashes. "Then how do you know it?"

"I was assigned to you," he admitted, watching me closely. "I work for the FBI. We need to recruit new members for our team, and you were near the top of our list."

I tilted my head to the side. "How? I've managed to remain on the down-low a majority of my life."

He squatted down in front of me, requiring him to look up at me with impossibly gold and grey eyes. The color combination was striking. "We don't know much about you; just what we could pull from files here and there. You were in the foster system as a kid, adopted by a very kind and gentle woman, graduated at the top of your class in high school, and did extremely well in college. You're very smart, Miss Fairchild. Brilliant, actually. Oh, and let's not forget the fact that throughout high school and college you consistently took self-defense classes and worked out with more rigor than anyone else at such a young age."

I jutted my chin out. "You got all that from a few files here and there?"

His lips tipped up. "Not exactly. We had to do a lot of researching to find out about you, but what mainly stuck out were the rumors that went around about you here in Washington D.C."

I frowned. "Rumors? What are you talking about?"

Jace pursed his lips. "When we are in desperate need of new recruits, we generally check out gyms and places where fighters are known to go. If you do a little bit of asking around, a few tips here and there, then you've got yourself someone to look into," he explained, running his thumb across his lower lip. It momentarily distracted me. "In this case, that someone is you. You've made yourself quite well known."

 _Well,_ I thought _, that is the complete opposite of what I was going for_.

"I shook my head in denial. "You've got the wrong girl, Jace. I'm not someone you'd want to recruit."

He cocked his head to the side. "You're an extraordinary fighter. Brilliant, beautiful. You're a triple threat, and exactly someone this team would need. And it's under my understanding that you're still looking for a job, yes?"

I puffed my cheeks out. "How would you know that?"

He shrugged uneasily. "Let's just say my boss made sure the jobs you interviewed for didn't go through."

I made a noise of denial. " _What_! I worked my _ass_ off to get those interviews! Do you know how much of a failure I felt like after them?

He lowered his gaze, making his long lashes brush the tops of his cheekbones. "I'm sorry. I just follow orders. If it's any reconciliation, all the interviewers say they were highly considering you for their jobs. Oh, and your ass is still there, in case you were wondering if you worked it all off," he added, his mood brightening a little bit.

For a moment I just stared at him in disbelief before I sat back in the chair in defeat. "It seems you've left me with no option."

"You always have options, Miss Fairchild. It's just that the one I'm offering you is the most logical one," he said.

I scrutinized him before me once again. If he was really part of the FBI…

"How can I trust you? You physically attacked me. That doesn't sound like something the FBI would do," I said.

Jace shrugged, obviously growing bored with the conversation as he rose to his full height. "You clearly have trust issues. That's up to you to get over and choose. I tried to reach out to you on multiple occasions."

I narrowed my eyes and cocked my head to the side. "What do you mean? I would hardly consider the gym—"

"I emailed you a few weeks back, offering you a job. I tried speaking with you in a bar while you were with a friend, which, might I add, you weren't allowed to be in."

I tried to think back, tried to push past the pulsing in my head, to remember. I remembered the email I received, but blew it off as some scam. And the bar he spoke of… that's right! Some guy did try to talk me up, but I wasn't interested.

I rolled my eyes, and then winced from pain. "Okay, so maybe you have. But so what? Can you blame me?"

Jace lifted a shoulder as a shrug and squatted down in front of me again. "I thought most girls liked attention from guys in bars."

"Well, I'm most certainly not most girls, I can assure you that," I retorted.

He exhaled loudly, then stood back up. "Okay, blondie, enough chit-chat. Are you in or not?"

I sighed and dropped my shoulders in defeat. "Count me in, I guess."

"Great, we'll start your training first thing tomorrow," he said smugly, reaching down to unlock my restraints. I did my best to glare a hole through him as he did so.

I rubbed my sore wrists. "I'm still pissed about what you did in the gym."

"And you've got a temper. We'll have to work on controlling that, too," he murmured, strolling toward a door, out of the spotlight. I reluctantly followed.

"I really don't like you, you know that?"

He smirked. "I sensed that. However, you're going to have to learn to like me. We'll be working quite a bit together." He opened the door, motioning me through, and into an office space. It was dark and dead silent, the only light coming from a single desk lamp across the office. Deciding not to question Jace any more, due to large part to how exhausted I was, I just followed him down the aisles between the cubicles, through another door, down three flights of stairs, and out into the cold night air. I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself. Jace went to drape his arm around my shoulders, but I stiffened and pulled away. Seeing his questioning look, I said:

"I don't like being touched. I told you already I had a rough upbringing," I said quietly.

His eyes flashed in remorse, but he didn't say anything else on the topic, for which I was grateful. "You know, some of the pictures we have on file for you were from your childhood. Back then, your hair was orange and curly," he stated, clearly probing but not asking.

"I needed a change, I guess," I said. It was partially true, but what I omitted is the part that I changed my hair after _he_ found me. I started off with the bleaching of my hair, as suggested by my adoptive mother, Dorothea. After a few years of doing that I began doing straight perms, all so I couldn't be easily recognized.

I walked with Jace toward the only vehicle in the parking lot of the building we had just vacated: a shiny black SUV. Ever the gentleman, her reached for the door handle and opened the door, stepping aside to let me in the car. I gave him the smallest and briefest smile to show my gratitude at his small chivalrous gesture before he closed the door and walked to his side.

"Are you taking me home now?" I wondered as he started the car. I leaned my forehead into the cool glass of the window, a welcome feeling against my throbbing head.

"Yes. You need to rest for what you'll be doing tomorrow," he replied.

I turned to face him. "So what did I just sign myself up for?"

He gave me an adorable crooked grin, and in the passing lights from the street lamps, his dimples showed. "Why don't we discuss this tomorrow? You look exhausted, and I'm sure your head is killing you. You'll think clearer in the morning."

I glowered at him. "You're the one who hit me."

"That's because you ran when you said you wouldn't."

I huffed. "Whatever. I just want some sleep." I glanced down at the digital clock on the dash in his car. "It's _one in the morning_? Are you kidding me? How long was I out for?"

"About an hour. You woke up just after I got you tied down."

I bit my lip, fighting the urge to laugh. "Does that turn you on? Tying women down?"

He barked out a laugh. "You must be tired."

I leaned back into the seat, closing my eyes. Sleep instantly pulled at me. "I am," I murmured, moments before it overtook me.

* * *

 _I was back in that house. I was in my bed, with the same yellow sheets and patchwork quilt. Except I wasn't a little girl anymore, but a teenager. I was as old as I was the last time I had seen_ him. _My door opened, and I huddled under the blanket, hoping it would protect me. The predator stalked toward me, dark eyes gleaming in the moonlight shining through my window._

 _"_ _Tell me, Clarissa, how does it feel knowing you walked away from your mother before she could take her last breath? How does it feel knowing you turned your back on her in her time of need?" he wondered, his voice low._

 _"_ _No," I croaked, pulling the quilt down just enough to tuck my chin over it. "I didn't know she was going to die. I told her to get better. I was seven years old," I said, my voice timid and higher –pitched than I remembered it being at that point in time._

 _"_ _You may not have known she was going to die, but it doesn't change the fact that you left her. You left her, and came back here to be with me."_

 _I shook my head vigorously. "No," I said again. "No, I would never do that. I hate you," I snarled, sitting up in my bed._

 _"_ _No you don't. You just can't resist me. Admit it, Clarissa, admit it!" he yelled, lunging at me and pinning me down._

 _I thrashed my head side-to-side, trying to avoid his prying lips. I was pinned down in every way. Helpless, not in control…_

 _I gasped, my eyes shooting open as the dream faded from my vision. Jace stood over me, and I was in my bed. My real bed. My queen sized bed, with ivory sheets and tan comforter. I was under the blankets, and I pulled them tight around me, suddenly feeling exposed._

* * *

"Are you alright?" he wondered, sitting on the edge of my bed.

I cringed away from him, my nightmare putting me on edge. "I'm fine," I rasped.

"Nightmare?"

I nodded, avoiding his gaze. "It's been a while since I've had one. Don't worry about it. I've dealt with them my whole life," I said, hoping it would get him off my back about it.

"I get it. You don't want to talk about it. You've spent your whole life being reserved and closed off from everyone and everything, and probably for good reason. That much is obvious. But if it makes you feel better, I get them too. Mine stem from memories of the past. Now get some rest. I'll be here to pick you up at eight. Dress like you would to go to the gym." He stood up and flicked off my lamp, turned, and left.

And I had never felt so alone and selfish.

My whole life I spent avoiding people at every opportunity because of my own past, my own issues, and my own fears. But I never stopped to think that maybe people who have problems, like me, could use the support from everyone possible.

* * *

 **Okay! So there may be some grammatical errors that my eye didn't catch, so I apologize for that ahead of time. Also, I really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Please, let me know in a review! Any questions or thoughts are greatly appreciated and I WILL respond to them! :)**

 **Anyway, I'll see everyone next chapter! :) Have a great week and hopefully I'll post again by the weekend!**

 **-Caitlyn**


	4. First Day

**Hey! I hope everyone had a great week! :) Mine was certainly decent, but long. Had a midterm, had college, had work. But overall not too bad. My boyfriend gets home this upcoming Friday for spring break and it'll be a much needed break for 9 days. But hey! He gets the FF thing and will totally let me write, so don't worry. :)**

 **Well, it's about that time that I respond to reviews, so here it goes! :)**

 **Blahblahbooks: I'm glad you like where this is** **going! There's definitely a lot more in store planned for this story. Also, yeah, the kidnapping thing was a little weird, but I think in the end it'll be worth it. :)**

 **Pizzanna: I'm glad! Stay posted to find out what happens next. :-)**

 **Debra Williams: OMG THANKS! :D**

 **Caitlin smith (Guest): I'm hoping to have it start picking up after this chapter. Some sparks fly between them next chapter, so let the chemistry begin (after this chapter)! I certainly do hope to keep it interesting, so any suggestions and thoughts on how to do so are fine by me! Clary does open up to Jace-but not for some time. But yes, Jace and Clary do end up together... on her 21st birthday. :* Thank you for the support!**

 **Islandgirl4evR: I thought about making her go absolutely crazy about it but thought that everyone would think she was crazy and I don't want her portrayed as too messed up. :) Their trust builds surprisingly quickly considering they have to spend all day every day together... guess where that leads. ;) (Hint: Clace 4evR)**

 **bubbles3 (Guest): I know, blonde is kind of strange. But the original story I wrote the character (Madelyn) is blonde. Plus I figured lightening her hair was more drastic than darkening it. And I think you'll like where this is headed. :)**

 **insolitasum: I hope you slept well! Regardless, thanks for the review. That's really what matters. :) I hope you enjoy the update as much as I enjoyed writing it!**

 **Okay! Off you guys go to reading the chapter! I hope you guys enjoy it a lot. :) See you at the end, lovelies!**

* * *

 **Chapter 3: First Day**

"Miss Fairchild, it's time to wake up," a voice urged, hands shaking my shoulders.

I groaned, turning my face into my pillow. I was on my stomach, and wasn't in any mood to wake up at the moment.

"Miss Fairchild—,"

"It's _Clary_ ," I snapped at the voice when they continued to shake my shoulders. And finally, my mind was awake enough to process what was going on. Someone was _in_ my apartment. I turned my head to the voice and groggily opened my eyes.

Jace was grinning, and I almost slapped him. "Rise and shine, sleeping beauty. I told you I'd be here at eight. It's now eight fifteen."

I very slowly sat up, wrapping my warm blankets around me. "I didn't set an alarm. In case you don't remember, I was hit in the head last night and was very tired."

He shrugged. "Get used to it." He flashed his dimples at me. "Now, get up. We have somewhere to go."

I rolled my eyes and sighed. I tasted the rancidness of my breath, and blushed at it. I needed to clean myself up. "I can drive myself, thank you very much."

He was texting on his phone and looked up at this. "One, you don't know where you're going. Two, if you have your car, it gives you an opportunity to run away. Which we figured out last night you like to do just that."

"Fine," I said, crawling out of bed, realizing I had kicked off my pants in the middle of the night and now stood in just my tank top and underwear. I flushed at his searing gaze. "Can you, um, turn around, please?" I asked, flustered.

He chuckled. "Wow, blushing _and_ manners? To what do I owe the honor?"

I narrowed my eyes at him until he smiled and turned away. I ran to the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind me. How much time did I have? He told me to dress in gym clothes last night, so should I bother showering? One glance in the mirror told me yes. My hair was matted on all sides from tossing and turning, my makeup smudged from not removing it last night.

I pushed my hair out of my face as I turned on the shower. As I waited for the water to warm up, I peered closer at my reflection. Upon closer inspection, I found a faint bruise on my temple, receding into my hairline. I grimaced, and shot the door a deadly glare, wishing Jace could see it. I quickly brushed my teeth.

I stripped off my clothes and jumped in the shower, washing myself, my hair, and shaving in record time. I stepped out, wrapping a towel around myself, only to hear Jace call through the door. "You almost done, blondie? The clock is ticking."

I rubbed lotion into my skin, all over, and rolled my green eyes. Still wrapped in a towel, I threw the door open and brushed past him to go to my room. "I may have a temper, but you have impatience. We'll have to work on controlling that," I said, shooting his words back at him.

He frowned and opened his mouth to say something when I shut the bedroom door in his face. I was feeling highly uncomfortable and vulnerable being seen in such little clothing so early in the morning. No one except the women in the locker room saw me like that and that wasn't often.

I pulled on some underwear, a black no-show thong, and a black sports bra. I pulled on dark grey and black mesh workout capris, and a fitted black workout tank. After pulling on socks and tennis shoes, I opened the door again to see an annoyed Jace, and went back into the bathroom.

"How long does this take?" he demanded, leaning against the door frame.

I briefly met his eyes in the mirror as I pulled a brush through my wet hair. "Have you never seen a woman get ready in the morning? This isn't even half of it. This is the lazy part." I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, then reached for my eyeliner and mascara, doing it quickly. Once I finished, I turned toward him. "Now we can go."

I grabbed my purse, phone, and jacket, and followed him outside into the bright morning.

* * *

Will you _please_ tell me what the job entails?" I demanded, stressing my manners.

Jace smiled, finally at ease now that we were out of my apartment. "You know those shows like Criminal Minds?" I nodded. "That's basically what you'll be doing."

I bit my lip. "But in that show they go through police academy. I don't have any experience with a gun. All I know is contact fighting."

"Don't worry about all that. You will be professionally trained. You're a natural at fighting, so you'll pick up on that part right away. But you do have quite a bit to learn, and you have some catching up to do."

I nibbled on my lip again. "What do you mean?"

"Well, since it took a few weeks to get through to you, the other recruits are farther ahead on their training than you. I really pushed for you to be on our team, so don't let me down." His voice, I could tell, meant it.

My heart sank, so I turned to look out the window. I was really, _really_ good at letting people down. I guess I did it to push people away, but I couldn't do that now. "Okay. I'll do my best to make you proud," I said.

* * *

I half-ran to keep up with Jace's long-legged pace. He was strolling with a purpose toward the building we were in last night. I had never been so annoyed with my lack of height.

"Wait, so if you're with the FBI, then what division are you in?" I demanded, fighting my urge to pant. We had to park at the back of the parking lot, and it was a long walk. "And where are your credentials? Aren't you required to show them?"

Jace glanced sideways at me, mirth glittering in his grey eyes. "You're full of questions, aren't you?"

I smirked. "Answering a question with a question, I see. That's a sign that your position may not be as valid as you say it is." We finally reached the building. We stood in front of two large doors, tinted glass with gold handles. With manners I was beginning to think he was raised with, he reached out and opened the door, stepping aside to let me in first.

"Your reasoning is exactly why you're here. Other than your physical health, that is," he responded, giving me a wink as I passed by him.

Once inside, I stopped and turned to face him. "So your position _is_ in question. What happened?"

"I'm currently suspended from the division. I'm halfway through my suspension, but have to show model behavior in order to get my credentials back. That means I can't assist with any cases."

"What did you do?" I wondered as he began to ascend a flight of stairs.

"We'll save that for another time," he snapped, clearly getting annoyed as we started on the next flight.

I whistled through my teeth. "Sorr-y. But one more question. What kind of training will I have to pass in order to receive credentials to be a qualified agent? Who will be assessing this?"

He stopped at the top of the second flight, pausing by the door he was about to open. "First, that was two questions. Second, jeez, do you watch TV or something? You seem curious about all the right stuff." He scrutinized me upon asking.

I bit my lip and, catching his gaze darkening like it had in the gym, lowered my eyes. "You brought up Criminal Minds in the car. I may have religiously watched Criminal Minds since I was in high school. Oh, and I may have read up on it on our way over here. Thank you, smart phones."

He rolled his eyes. "Let's just say you and the two other recruits are doing crash course training. If, at the end of it, you pass the FBI requirements, you get your credentials and can work alongside us. If not," he paused, opening the door and following me through it, "you return to your boring life, forget it ever happened, and we're forced to recruit cadets from the academy."

I froze, swallowing thickly. That was a lot of pressure to put on someone. In the few seconds I had stopped, Jace had gotten several steps ahead of me, which I had to race to catch up.

"Before you ask, we're going to meet my supervisor, but we're doing it quickly. The other recruits should already be here, so they're probably already waiting."

I decided to keep my mouth shut at that and followed Jace through the office. He bounded up a short flight of stairs and came to a halt in front of a closed door, knocking on it before opening the door. This time, he didn't let me pass first.

"Hey, Robert, I have the last recruit," he said, standing just enough in the doorway that I couldn't see into the office around him.

"You're four days late with her. That won't settle well with the Bureau," a man, presumably "Robert," responded.

 _He called it the Bureau… so it must be legitimate._

I gazed around me in awe. There were cubicles on the floor just below me, and there was a good view of the few that were there. I counted nine desks, and only four were occupied. The people sitting at the desks exchanged looks with each other and then glanced at me.

"I know, I know. She was stubborn. But I really think she'll be worth it. Give her a chance."

I heard a sigh. "Fine. Bring her in, and then get started on her training immediately. If she can't keep up—,"

"I know. I explained it to her as well."

At that Jace turned to me, giving me a blazing look, and stepped further into the office so I could enter. I briefly took in my surroundings before acknowledging the serious looking man before me. There were windows overlooking the floor I had been previously looking at, but the blinds were closed. There were also windows on the opposite side of the room, letting in a copious amount of daylight. A couple of large plants occupied the corners, and on the back side of the room was a large oak desk where the man stood behind.

I stepped forward, smiled, and extended my hand. "Hello, sir, my name is Clarissa Fairchild. I go by Clary," I introduced.

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Fairchild. I'm Robert Lightwood. I see you've met Jace. He's gone over everything with you, I'm sure," Mr. Lightwood said, raising his eyebrows as if questioning me.

Before I could respond, Jace spoke. "I've gone over the basics with her. The rest I'll have to explain as we go. We need to get started."

Mr. Lightwood nodded. "Of course. Miss Fairchild, good luck, and I'll hopefully see you soon." He sat back down at his desk.

I smiled at him. "I hope so too, Mr. Lightwood."

"Please, call me Robert."

"I will." I turned and left with Jace. "What else is there to explain?" I asked him as he shut the door.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, and a few of his waves came loose from the hair he had pushed back earlier. "There is so much to explain. You'll have to do long days because of it."

* * *

We had taken an elevator down to the lower levels of the building, which turned out to be underground, and where they would be training us. It was space that they reserved as a gym for the members, and included obstacles included in the FBI test runs to keep you in shape.

"Clary, this is Magnus Bane and Simon Lewis. These are the other two recruits. They're already four days into the training," Drew said.

I shook their hands. They were both tall. One was kind of nerdy looking, and the other one was of Asian heritage, with slightly bronzed skin. The nerdy one was leaner and cut, but the shorter one was more lanky. Both handsome, and not much older than me.

"Clary… as in Clary Fairchild?" The taller one, Simon, asked, brown eyes narrowing at me.

"Does my name ring a bell?" I said, a snarky undertone lacing the words.

"You go to that underground gym, Pandemonium, right?"

A small burst of panic lanced through me. _Oh no. How does he know who I am?_ "Yes, why?" I questioned skeptically.

"I've heard a lot about you. I went there briefly right around the time you started going there, what, four years ago?" I nodded, and he continued. "Yeah, you were quite the little fury. How many fights did you almost start?"

I started to relax and chuckled at the memory. "Oh, I don't know. Probably close to a dozen in my first few months."

He laughed too. "Well you seem to have mellowed out a bit. Still got the same fight in you?"

I smiled. "Of course I do!" I was honestly instantly warmed up to him, something that I don't think ever happened in my life. And, even more surprisingly, I was _flattered_ that he remembered me. But now that I thought about it, he was ringing a bell… but from where? Not the gym…

Jace had watched this whole exchange with confusion on his face. "Mellowed out? Are you kidding me? She almost took me out at the gym when I got in her way."

Simon whistled. "Big mistake, bro."

Jace smirked. "Clearly. Anyway, let's get started. I'll need your guys' help getting her caught up on the training. Think you're up to the task?"

Magnus smiled. "Absolutely. I'm ready to kick her ass."

* * *

Magnus wasn't kidding. He _did_ kick my ass. As well as Simon. And Jace. I was doing my best to be a good sport about it, but the truth is, I _never_ lost fights, so the fact that I had lost to Jace in a public setting, and then to two other men was a blow to my ego.

Now, I shouldn't have been so hard on myself, given the fact that they were men. But this was kind of the whole point in me training the way I did. I did it to protect myself if I was ever put in a position with a man that I didn't want to be in… or if I ever saw _him_ again.

We spent six hours going over different fighting techniques. They told me it would take some time, and Magnus and Simon were still perfecting it. At the end of the day, I was almost embarrassed at how physically exhausted I was. Apparently being able to run several miles or workout for an extended period of time didn't compare too much to this.

"It's good practice for you to do this with other people," Jace told me as we wrapped up the physical aspect of my training for the day.

I glared at him as I put my hands on my knees to catch my breath. "Whatever," I panted.

He raised his eyebrows. "Do you know how physically exhausting it is to actually fight with someone? Or fight against someone?"

 _Wrong choice of words,_ I thought. _Fuck, here it comes._

I knew as soon as those words left his mouth that unpleasant thoughts would come unwantedly. This time, it was a flashback of the first time _he_ took advantage of me. I squeezed my eyes shut and held tight for the ride and prayed it would be over quickly.

 _It was near the end of summer time, so the air was thick and stiflingly hot in Tucson, Arizona. All our windows were open because the air conditioning wasn't to be fixed for the next few days. A light and welcome breeze blew through the windows, pushing my sweaty curls off my forehead._

 _I ran out into the living room, holding one of my few Barbie dolls up in the air. "Mommy!" I cried, pausing on the line that separated the linoleum of the kitchen and the carpet of the living room. I had wanted to show her Barbie's hair, but she was nowhere to be seen. "Mommy?"_

 _"_ _She went to get a fan for you,"_ he _said from his spot in his reclining chair. "She didn't want you overheating."_

 _I jutted out my lower lip in a fake pout. "Oh. Well, this can wait. Do you want to see Barbie's hair? I did it myself!" I exclaimed proudly._

 _He smiled at me and put out his cigarette. "Sure, sweetie, why don't you bring her over here?"_

 _I giggled and galloped over to him, handing him my doll. "Do you like it?"_

 _He grinned. "Of course I do! She's beautiful. Just like you."_

 _I beamed and reached for Barbie, but instead he scooped me up and carried me to my room. "Time for bed, little one. Your mother won't be back for a while."_

 _"_ _Whyyyy? I don't want to go to bed!" I whined as he laid me down on my bed._

 _He pulled back and grinned, a sick, sadistic look on his face. "I'm going to teach you to listen to me, even though you don't like to. You'll learn to. I'm not a temporary fixture in this house."_

 _What happened next was the night my whole life changed._

"Clary? Hey, Clary, everything okay?" Jace asked, reaching out to touch my shoulder.

My flashback dissipated and I straightened before his fingertips could reach me. "I'm fine. Onto the next thing?" I snapped, trying to contain myself. I felt so… _manhandled_ , like I was that night and the many that followed.

The three men standing before me all exchanged skeptical glances, to which I responded by narrowing my eyes.

"O-kay," Jace said slowly. "Onto firearms."

I cursed under my breath. "You trust me with a firearm?"

"No, but it's protocol," he responded as we exited the workout area. "We have to drive to get to the shooting range."

Simon fell back to talk to me, and I felt oddly comfortable with him doing so. "You're doing well, you know," he said quietly. "I can see that you're feeling discouraged."

I shrugged. "I've always fought people my size, and it was never this physical I guess. It's a different kind of training than I'm accustomed to, but I'll learn."

"I was surprised at it, too. But it only takes a few days to catch on to it, so don't get too discouraged."

I smiled halfheartedly as we all exited the building. "I'll try not to. I think I'm just disappointed in myself because I trained for stuff like this for years," I admitted.

"Stuff like what?" he wondered.

 _Shit. Lie._

"Fighting. You know, self-defense."

Simon chortled and ran a hand through his dark curls. "I think it's different when the fight is real. You'll have adrenaline. And you're already in great shape, so I wouldn't worry if I were you." We reached the car at the back of the parking lot, and I pondered what Simon was saying as I climbed into the back with him. He had a point, and a good one, and I immediately felt better.

* * *

 **Hey everyone! I hope the chapter wasn't too bad haha. Look, I know it was kind of slow moving but some sparks will fly between Clary and Jace next chapter, which will hopefully be up by tomorrow night! :) So definitely stay posted if you're interested in more.**

 **Please let me know what your thoughts are! I can't improve if no one gives me feedback, so all that I've received has been much appreciated! :) Please review (anything-thoughts, comments, questions, suggestions), and I'll see you next chapter! :)**

 **-Caitlyn**


	5. Ready, Aim Sparks Fly!

**Hey guys! Happy Sunday! And happy new week! :)**

 **I told you sparks would start to fly this chapter, and they diiiiiiiddd! And they will continue very soon! :)**

 **Pizzanna: Here's your update! And thank you. :)**

 **Elaine (Guest): I'm glad you're liking it! :) I hope you continue to like it!**

 **Dana (Guest): I haven't completely decided yet, but it'll be something cool, I'm sure. :) Thank you!**

 **Caitlin smith (Guest): 1. I kept the flashbacks in. Seems to be a signature now. :) 2. I took your advice and made Clary a natural with firearms, as well as the flashback with it!**

 **Debra Williams: Here's the Clace you've been wanting! :)**

 **Guest: It would appear that is so! I guess you'll have to stick around to find out!**

 **oesteffel: I know! I totally panicked and threw Magnus in there. But don't worry, he'll still get his sparkles and glitter... and meet Alec this way. You'll find out about Jace soon enough, and yes he will be jealous but not as possessive.**

 **Guest: Stick around for more! :)**

 **Okay, so done with the reviews, and onto the story! :) Enjoy the chapter, and I'll see you at the end! :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Ready, Aim… Sparks Fly**

"The first thing to remember when using a firearm," Jace was saying, "is that it should always be pointed at the desired target. Never, _ever_ point it at someone as a joke. Not even when it's unloaded. Firearms are an extremely dangerous weapon, and should only be used when absolutely needed. Use of a firearm should never be abused."

I was expecting to be actually using a gun at this point, but that clearly wasn't in Jace's plan. Simon told me they had already been using guns, so he and Magnus went out to practice, while I got roped into staying inside the lodge at the shooting range to get lessons about the safety of firearms.

"Second rule: a gun should always be unloaded when not in use. In our case, it should be unloaded until we head out into the field. Got it?"

"Yes," I mumbled, stifling a yawn. Wasn't this stuff common sense?

Jace paced in front of me, his hands clasped behind his back, while I sat at a desk like I was back in high school. "Good. The third thing you should know is that you should never rely on your firearm's 'safety' mode," he said, using air quotations. "A firearm is not reliable enough to assume that the safety mode will work. Therefore, never have your finger on the trigger unless or until you intend to shoot. And never fire with the safety mode on, or if the switch is between 'safety' and 'fire.'"

I was so bored listening to this. He didn't believe it, but I knew _all_ about gun safety. I may not have used a gun before, but I certainly knew the rules. I knew how to disarm someone with a gun, too. At my own expense, I zoned out Jace's voice and tried to think of something more entertaining. I thought of my mother and one of my favorite memories with her.

 _I was only five years old, before everything started. Before I ever met_ him _. It was just my mom and I, in our small house in Arizona. It was early summer, so it was dry and hot outside. I loved the heat, and so did my mom._

 _We were outside in our yard, where the grass that my mother tended so carefully to was. We had a surprisingly lush front lawn, and I loved to lie in the grass beside her, staring up at the sky. Today it was clear, with no clouds, and I was running through our sprinkler, the cool water welcome to my hot skin._

 _"_ _Clar!" My mother called from inside the house. I stepped out of the way of the sprinkler and looked at the front door, left open except for the screen door. She pushed it open, holding two tall glasses of ice cold lemonade. Her dark red hair, much darker than my orange hair, was pinned up, and she was wearing overalls despite the heat._

 _I skipped over to her and eagerly took one of the glasses from her, gulping down the sweet yet sour lemonade. "Mommy, you make the best nemolade," I said. I could never say the word right, and my mother absolutely loved it despite her attempts to fix it._

 _She plopped down in a dry area of the grass, and I sat down next to her. "Do you know what my favorite color is, Clar?"_

 _I shook my head, hanging on to her every word._

 _"_ _Yellow. It reminds me of you," she told me, her green eyes sparkling._

 _I frowned. "But mommy, I'm not yellow," I said._

 _She laughed, and it was beautiful. "I know, sweetheart. But yellow is the color of the sun, and you are my sunshine, Clarissa. You are my happy little girl, and you shine so bright. Don't let anyone take that shine away. Okay?"_

 _I nodded, grinning up at her. She was my whole world. "Yes, mommy." I set my cup down and crawled into her lap. She held me tightly and the smell of her bosom and the scents of summer made me close my eyes in bliss…_

The memory faded away, but I felt at peace. I felt a small smile shaping my lips and I sighed contentedly, only to be rudely forced out of my happy place by Jace.

"Clary, are you listening to me?" Drew demanded, standing over me like a disappointed teacher.

I rolled my eyes, my smile fading away but my good mood staying firmly in place. "Yes, give me the damn written test and I guarantee you I'll pass it."

He looked at me skeptically but opened the folder he had picked up while I was daydreaming. He removed a packet, setting it down on my desk, along with a pencil. He glanced up at the clock on the back wall. "You have thirty minutes to complete the exam. You may begin."

I almost scoffed, but decided to hold my tongue. I didn't need thirty minutes to complete… I flipped through the pages, seeing there were thirty questions on it. They weren't asking what gun safety rules were, but identifying safety rules in situations, rules that were broken, and how to fix the behavior. I nearly swore under my breath but worked through it as quickly as possible.

* * *

"Only missed three," Jace said as he graded my exam. I rubbed my temples from the stress of getting done seconds before my time was up.

"So I passed?" I asked, sitting on the edge of the large desk he was now occupying.

His eyes flicked to my legs and traveled up until he met my gaze. He blinked a few times and then seemed to snap out of whatever thought had crossed his mind. "Sorry, yes, you passed. Ready to learn how to actually handle a gun?"

I nodded and stood up. I watched as he filed my exam into the briefcase he had brought with us. Jace then opened a small black case and removed a gun. He slowly turned to face me, his grey gaze tentative and slightly unfocused.

"This gun will be the one you will be using. You will get an identical one issued to you after you pass," he explained, then removed his gun on a holster attached to his belt. "See, this one is issued to me."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, got it."

Jace scowled. "You better be ready." He turned and started toward the door, and I started to feel a bit nervous about all of this. What if I made it through the training only to fail at the end?

I shook my head and exhaled sharply. Positive. I needed to think positive.

I followed Jace outside, into the warm summer air. I heard shots being fired around the corner, where the shooting lanes were. Each lane was separated by tall wooden walls, and then a waist-height wall spanned the length of it. Jace lead me over to one of them, several lanes away from Simon and Magnus, and handed me a pair of ear protectors and goggles. I put the protectors around my neck and my goggles over my eyes as Jace did the same and awaited further instruction. Then a gun was placed in my hand, and I clutched it gently in both of my small hands.

"You ready?" Jace asked in a soft voice. "You've done a lot today. If you're too tired, we can work on something else.

I cocked my head to the side, smiling. "You've got a soft spot. Cute," I responded. At his glare, I laughed and then said, "Yes, I'm ready."

Jace then stepped behind me. "I'm going to have to adjust your posture, okay? Don't… don't get any ideas about what I'm doing. Just a warning," he whispered in my ear, almost drown out by the sound of the guns. He was now close enough that I could feel his breath on my ear, the warmth of his skin against my back…

"Okay," I said, because I wasn't nervous about it… for once.

"Stand with your feet apart," he instructed. I did as he said. "A little bit more." He gently nudged my feet out with his. "Make sure your hips are forward." He placed his hands on my hips and turned them slightly until they were centered.

"What's next?" I wondered, trying to ignore the flush creeping into my cheeks and the fact that my body was reacting to the closeness of his.

"This." Jace reached up and grasped the ear protectors, sliding them over my ears, fingertips brushing my neck. "And now…" his voice trailed off as his arms reached around me, shaping my hands around the gun and aiming it forward. "Now you have to be focused. Every shot should be deliberate."

It was a little hard to hear with the ear protectors, but I could hear the softness of his voice and feel his racing heart against my back. I rolled my shoulders back, and in doing so pushed my hips back a little.

Jace groaned and his grip on my hands tightened. "Focus on shooting right now. Not on me."

I bit my lip and turned my face to the right, ever so slightly. Jace's lips parted, and he pressed his cheek into mine.

Tearing myself out of the strange hormones that momentarily possessed me, I faced forward, aiming for the center of the target at the end of the lane. I took a deep breath, and pulled the trigger.

 _Mommy and_ him _were in another fight. I was curled up in the corner beside the TV, wishing I could melt into the walls and not hear the screaming anymore._

 _"_ _I told you to_ stop using _or to get out of this house!" My mother shouted._

He _got up in her face, waving a small handgun around wildly. "Kick me out and I'll kill myself. You know I can't live without you, Jocelyn."_

 _My mother slapped him. "Don't try to guilt trip me. You put me and Clary in danger when you use, you bastard!"_

 _"_ _Damn it, Jocelyn,"_ he _snarled. Suddenly there was a gunshot, and I whimpered and covered my face. I feared my mother had been shot, but when I dared to peak, I saw that it was on the floor next to her feet. "That was a warning shot in case you try to kick me out again."_

"Clary? Clary, come on, snap _out of it_!" Jace declared, his arms wrapped tightly around me, holding me on my feet as the rest of the horrible flashback faded away.

For a brief second, I allowed myself the pleasure of leaning back in Jace's arms, the surprisingly comforting smell of him surrounding me, before I pulled away to see that Simon and Magnus had joined us and were looking at me in concern.

"I'm fine," I panted. "I'm really okay. Just, um, just a…" My voice trailed off. What could I tell them? Surely not the truth, no, never in a million years. "It just freaked me out. I've never shot a gun before."

Simon whistled. "Well for someone who's never shot a gun before…"

"Damn, Clary, you're making up for the fighting earlier," Magnus said.

I frowned and turned to look at the target, gaping at what I saw.

It was a bullseye.

"What the…" I started, looking at Jace. "Did you do that?"

Jace smirked at me. "No, that was all you."

I glanced back at the target. "You mean…"

"Yes, I mean you did that by yourself. Looks like you're a natural," he said, placing his hands on my shoulders.

I sighed. "One less thing to worry about."

He leaned in close to my ear. "I guess that means you really don't want me touching you since you got it down right away."

I gulped. _But I kinda liked it_ , I wanted to say.

* * *

I opened the door to my apartment, thankful for the welcoming smell it brought. I kicked off my shoes and locked the door behind me. I flicked on the hallway light as I made my way to my bedroom. I couldn't wait to take my sweaty workout clothes off, so by the time I was in my room, my clothes were almost completely off.

After getting completely ready for bed and making sure all my doors and windows were locked, I climbed gratefully into my bed, my sore muscles protesting.

Jeez, when was the last time I was this sore?

I collapsed onto my back, plugging my phone in and settling deep into my blankets. My mind immediately wandered to Jace, but I tried to block those thoughts.

 _No. No, no, no._

I closed my eyes, sleep already pulling at me, when my phone blared, startling me back to complete consciousness.

"Hello?" I mumbled.

"I wanted to talk about what happened today," Jace said.

I groaned. "Jace, I'm tired. Can we talk tomorrow?"

"No, we won't get a chance to," he replied.

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, what is there to talk about?"

"It won't happen again," he said.

For some unknown reason, my heart dropped. "Oh. Well, thanks for letting me know."

"Yeah…" he said. "Anyway, get some rest and I'll see you tomorrow morning. Eight in the morning."

And then he hung up.

I scoffed and dropped my phone on the bed next to me, curling up to go to sleep. I was pouting, I know, and it was ridiculous.

Because for some strange reason, my body _reacted_ to Jace. My body was flooded with hormones that I had never thought I would ever experience.

And I kinda liked it.

And I wanted more of it.

* * *

 **Hey guys! I know this chapter was kind of short, but I said I would try and update before the weekend was over, so here you go! :)**

 **Any more thoughts, questions, suggests, or comments? Leave a review! Please leave a review! :) It's greatly appreciated. :)**

 **Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed it! I'll see you next chapter! :)**

 **-Caitlyn**


	6. Show Me

**Hey guys! Sorry I dropped off the face of the earth for awhile! Initially it was because my boyfriend was in town for spring break, then midterms, then I just got lazy and busy. :(**

 **Anyway, I wanted to update ASAP so I won't be responding to reviews this chapter, but for sure next chapter! :)**

 **Enjoy! :)**

* * *

Seven forty-five in the morning and my doorbell was ringing, over and over. And over. And over. It was like a bad dream, except that it was reality. A bad reality that wasn't much better.

I clambered out of bed, rubbing my throbbing temple and stretching my extremely sore muscles. I stretched my arms up to stretch my back and yawned. I walked over to my bedroom door and opened it, suddenly realizing that I was surprisingly well-rested.

I frowned, wondering when the last time I felt this refreshed was as I opened my door. I didn't even care that I was just in a t-shirt and shorts. I just stepped aside to let Jace in, then turned and went into the bathroom, letting him let himself in. Not a word from neither him nor I.

Was it just me, or was there more tension, and not the awkward angry tension, between us than before? Was it just me, or did I see him rake his eyes over me as I opened the door?

I quickly showered. As I stepped out, I noticed my long blonde hair was drying in slight waves. I cursed, knowing that sometime within the next few weeks I would have to go get my straight perm done again.

Ten minutes later, I was dressed and ready to go. A quick glance at the clock told me it was only eight-ten.

"Ready, blondie?" Jace asked, completely monotone, as opposed to his usual plaful tone.

I motioned toward the door. "Lead the way, boss," I replied, overly sweetly. If he wanted to play this little professional thing, fine. I would play along. But I sure as hell wouldn't be the one to give in first.

"Got any bruises from your ass-whooping?" Simon wondered as we all gathered in the training area.

I continued to stretch, wincing, but I shook my head. "Actually, no. I have a feeling I'll get a lot of them in the field, though. I appreciate you guys not giving me any. People might start questioning my badassness if I constantly have bruises."

Simon chuckled and Jace frowned. "Enough chit-chat," he snapped. "Simon, Magnus, go work together. I'll stay with Clary so she can stay focused."

Simon, Magnus, and I all exchanged confused glances. What was going on? I watched, sadly, as Magnus and Simon went to a different combat room, while I was left with a questionably moody Jace.

"Everything alright with you?" I asked as I followed Jace into the training room we used yesterday.

Jace rolled his eyes. "You need to focus, Clary. If we keep going at this rate, you'll never make it past training. And then my time will be wasted."

I tried to ignore the twinge of hurt that his words gave me, but was more confused than ever. Somewhere along the way I had chosen to try to let these people in, even though I'd known Jace all of twenty-four hours, and Simon and Magnus for less.

"What rate?" I demanded, getting angry now. "I've been doing this all of one day. You've hardly given me a chance."

Jace halted and turned to face me. " _Hardly_ given you a _chance_? Are you kidding me? After how hard I pushed for you to be here-,"

"Exactly," I interrupted. "For someone who was so persistent to have me here, I and probably several others would expect more than this shitty attitude that you seem to be in today. Have a bad day, that's fine. But _don't_ take it out on me," I snarled, then turned and stomped out of the room, leaving a speechless Jace behind me.

I went into Simon and Magnus's training room, fuming. They stopped and glanced at me in question. I needed to _fight_ to take my temper out on something.

"Magnus, let's fight," I said. He nodded, and I took the first swing.

I applied everything they had taught me yesterday. Magnus beat me twice, pinning me down, surprisingly strong for his lanky self. Simon beat me once before I forfeited.

"I just don't _understand_ ," I cried, panting as I pulled myself to my feet. "Why am I still losing at this?"

"Because you're trying to take your anger out," Jace said from behind where we all stood.

How long had he been standing there?

We all looked at him expectantly.

"If you let fighting get too personal, you're more likely to lose your focus and therefore lose your fight. You can't let it be so personal, Clary. You'll lose sight of your mission."

"Speaking from personal experience?" Simon joked.

I could tell that Jace was, indeed, speaking from personal experience. I didn't have the heart to make fun of him. Instead, I simply asked, "Are you feeling better?"

He smirked. "Are you?"

I cocked an eyebrow. "Answering a question with a question again, I see."

"Evading my questions again, as always, Miss Fairchild. Ready to actually train?"

I was simply satisfied with him being back to his normal self, so I abandoned my hopeless fights with Simon and Magnus and once again followed Jace.

"I'm sorry about earlier," Jace said as we took a lunch break. My sandwich never tasted so good. I was so hungry after the physicality of the training, but could tell I was making small improvements.

I shrugged. "It's whatever."

"No, it's not. You were right. I _shouldn't_ take it out on you, or anyone for that matter. You're not the only one with a temper."

I tilted my head as I looked at him, scrutinizing his behavior. "You got in an argument with someone last night, didn't you?"

He smiled. "You're going to be a great profiler, Clary."

We didn't say anything for a few minutes, just ate our lunches. I finally decided to break the silence out of pure curiosity.

"Who did you argue with?"

Jace sighed. "You don't let anything go, do you?" He paused before responding. "I was fighting with this girl I started seeing a few weeks ago.

Slight disappointment coursed my veins. _I shouldn't be surprised_. "What was it about?"

"Me spending too much time at my job and not enough time with her."

I snickered. "And you guys have only been together a few weeks?"

He rolled his eyes and nodded. "Stupid, I know. I think she's uncomfortable with me spending time with another woman," he admitted, glancing at me.

I shoved his shoulder. "Tell her not to worry. I'm only interested in being coworkers and possibly friends," I said, even though part of me knew it wasn't true. A brief look of longing flashed in his eyes before it was gone.

I inwardly grinned. _Game on._

That night, I finally decided to talk to Tessa. I was parked in front of her place, feeling nervous about how she would react to me being there, but knew it had to be done. After a deep breath, I climbed out of my car and walked into her apartment building, and then knocked on her door.

The door swung open, and Tessa stood there, obviously surprised. "Clary? What are you doing here?"

I looked down at my hands. _Now or never_. "You told me to call you when I was ready to talk. I figured this was better than calling."

Tessa cocked an eyebrow before stepping aside to let me in. "I thought it would take you longer."

"Under normal circumstances, it probably would," was all I responded with.

She sat down at her table, tucking one leg underneath her. "Well?" she asked expectantly. "What makes these circumstances 'not normal'?"

I glanced around her cute little apartment, cozy and library-like, before sitting down in defeat. "I got a job."

Her jaw dropped. "No way! Where?"

I didn't make eye contact. She was probably going to ask a lot of questions that I wasn't sure I was prepared to answer. "The FBI. Remember that guy at the gym?"

Tessa nodded. "He was also at a bar we went to a few weeks ago. But yes, I remember him. Why?"

I scowled. How did she remember him when I didn't? "Well, turns out he was recruiting me. I've been training for the past two days, and let me tell you it's been far from easy."

"What kind of training?"

"Firearms, combat, some profiling techniques. It's exhausting."

She nodded again, and silence followed. It was awkward, which was highly unusual for us. Silences weren't usually bizarre between us.

"So… are we going to talk about what happened at the gym last week?" I wondered quietly to break the silence.

Tessa rubbed the back of her neck and stood up to walk into the adjacent kitchen. "I don't know. Are you ready to talk about it?"

"Am I ever ready to talk about it?" I asked rhetorically, watching as she prepared two cups of tea.

"The answer to your rhetorical question is no. It's not like I'm ever really _ready_ to talk about my past. Just sometimes it needs to come out. How are you supposed to grow and move on if you don't?"

I hesitated. "I was molested and raped for two years. My mother didn't know. I was too young and didn't have the heart to tell her when she was on her death bed," I admitted, my voice barely audible.

Tessa froze as she dunked the tea bags into the cups of warm water before slowly turning around to bring them to the table. She didn't say anything for a moment, and just out of my pure discomfort, I remained completely silent. The truth was out, and I couldn't say it was a relief. If anything, it felt like tearing open new wounds.

"How old were you?" she finally asked, after nearly three minutes of sipping on too-hot chamomile tea.

"I was freshly five when it started," I said. "I left home on my seventh birthday."

She bit her lip. "You're right," she paused. "You were too young. Much too young to even understand it. No one should ever have to go through that."

"No one should ever have to deal with crack-addict parents," I replied, hoping to take the spotlight off me.

She laughed softly. "Unfortunately, the world is a cruel, dark place, Clary. You and I just happened to see that part a little more than most people."

I exhaled sharply. "Couldn't have said it better myself."

There was another pause.

"Hey, Tessa?" I started.

"Yeah?" We finally made eye contact.

"You didn't apologize. Therapists and people I told when I was younger always apologized."

She shrugged. "If there's one thing I've learned, it's that you should never apologize for something that isn't your fault, nor should you apologize for something like that. I mean, what is the other party supposed to say? That it's _okay_? Because it's not. And it will never be okay. But somehow, in the midst of all the chaos of the world, we find a way to _be_ okay. We find our own way of moving on. Somehow, we have to learn to let go of the past and stop hiding behind it."

I stared down at my cup of tea. She was right, of course, and this conversation was long overdue. I smiled shyly up at her, sensing that our friendship would return to normal, if not on a deeper level than before.

A couple weeks passed. I was now three of four weeks into my training. I grew increasingly more comfortable with Simon, Magnus, and Jace, and had been doing exceedingly well in all areas of my training. I still struggled with the physical training most of the time, but was triumphant in the few times I beat each of the guys.

Today we were meeting the rest of the team, and I had to admit that I was a little bit anxious. We were told to dress nice, so here I was, dressed in slacks, heels, and a nice dark green button-up.

"Nervous, blondie?" Jace asked from beside me while we waited in the conference room for everyone else to show up.

I shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't usually do well with new people."

"That's an understatement," he muttered.

I elbowed him in the ribs, and then glanced over at him to get a better look at him. "You look nice in that shirt, by the way. Date tonight?" I complimented. He was wearing a light blue button-up with a black tie and black trousers. His golden waves were neatly pushed back.

He nervously pulled at his collar. "Yes, with that girl I told you about a few weeks ago. I'm finally taking her out on a nice date."

I opened my mouth to respond when several people walked through the conference room door. There was a gorgeous dark-haired woman, who dressed borderline inappropriate for a workplace, but she was a tall goddess to say the least. She also had the biggest bitch look on her face, and I knew one day her and I would get along.

Robert followed behind them, nodding at all of us. "Welcome to the team. While I'm aware you guys haven't yet finished your training, we need your assistance on a case. Before we start debriefing, I'd like for you all to introduce yourselves."

There were two tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed men, one of which was named Will, and the other one was Alec. Alec was slightly thinner and had a more narrow face than Will, while Will looked elegant and lonely. The dark-haired girl was Isabelle, and there was another blonde girl named Emma. They were both tough-seeming women.

Just as we were finishing introductions, a man threw the door open. He had shoulder-length black hair and bright green eyes, with spritely features, but he was seething. "I quit. I can't keep doing this job, Robert. You'll have to find someone to replace me," he snapped, tossing his credentials on the table before storming out.

We all stared at the door and then back at Robert.

"Who was that?" Magnus asked.

Robert sighed. "Our Technical Analyst. Do any of you know how to do computer work like that? Hacking and whatnot?"

Magnus's hand shot up. "I've been playing with computers since I was a kid. I can certainly help work some magic."

One of the guys, Alec, looked at him with curiosity. "You did computer hacking?"

Magnus's face dropped. "Well, no. But I know how to. I could work your computer systems."

Robert nodded. "Great. I'll consider your training done then. You'll be our new Technical Analyst. Now, onto the case. Clary, Simon, Jace, you'll stay here to work out of the office here. The rest will come with me, but first I need to debrief you on it."

Isabelle clicked a button on the remote she was holding, and the large TV screen on the back wall lit up. "Okay, so far three bodies have been found completely drained of blood in Boston. All the victims seem to have had nails through their hands, but the nails were nowhere to be found." She displayed a few of the crime scene photos, and I fought the urge to look away. "Cause of death was from slits in the wrists, throat, and ankles. It also appears that more blood was removed from a two IV's in the arms and legs."

"The bodies aren't on display," Jace observed. "They were dumped carelessly."

"No remorse," Will said. "He must not care for them after they are of no more use to him."

"All the victims are white males in their early thirties. Married, and have children. They're the typical blue collar American," Isabelle said. "Clearly he's a preferential killer."

"They could be a surrogate for someone else," Simon spoke up, and everyone, including me, looked over at him. "What? I'm just saying. Don't preferential killers usually have a type because they're surrogates for the real cause of their anger?"

Jace nodded. "Yes, usually. This could be the case guys, and we have no evidence to prove otherwise."

I was beginning to feel a little bit left out in this conversation, but I had nothing to comment on.

"Were there any signs of sexual assault?" Alec wondered.

Isabelle shook her head. "None. Rape kits came back clean."

"How frequent are the kills?" Emma said.

"First victim was found two weeks ago, second victim five days ago, third yesterday morning. Judging by the missing persons report, he's holding them for about two days before disposing of them. I think that's all for now, we can discuss more on the flight there?"

Robert nodded. "Yes, wheels up in thirty minutes."

"Wait," I said before I could stop myself. I was examining the pictures more closely now. "You said there were no signs of sexual assault."

Isabelle refrained from rolling her eyes. "Yes, that's what the report says."

I scowled at her. "So that means it's unlikely that the… um, suspect—," I stopped, looking for the word.

"Unsub," Will muttered.

"Right. The unsub. That means it's unlikely that the unsub is getting off on this."

Alec and Emma scrutinized me before Emma spoke up. "Correct, or the kill himself is what's getting him off."

"Mmm, I don't think so," I said.

"How do you reckon?" Robert wondered.

I approached the TV screen. "Well, look. It's kind of hard to see in these photos, but aside from the dirt on the clothes, they're in good shape. There is no blood on them, and the wounds are wiped clean."

Jace smiled at me. I could tell I was making him proud.

"So the unsub is most likely a woman," Robert said. "Good work, Clary. Jace, take care of things here. We'll be in touch."

We watched as the team left, while the four of us stood in the room.

"Damn, guys, that was impressive," Jace said. "Good eyes."

"So now what?" Magnus asked.

"Oh, right. We will go get you set up in your office. Simon, Clary… I'll come find you later."

* * *

 **Okay everyone! I know it was kind of short, but I hope you liked it! I've been watching a lot of Criminal Minds lately so shout out to them for my terminology! Haha. Anyway. Let me know what you thought in a review! I will be responding to them next chapter!**

 **Thanks for reading! I promise I'll be back soon, just be a little patient** **please! :) But please review any thoughts at all!**

 **-Caitlyn**


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